The Dark Mark
by Morgan Melchor
Summary: Severus Snape recalls when he first went into the service of Voldermort. So many regrets… One-shot


**Disclaimer**: Harry Potter is mine…all mine…. Unfortunately not true. All the character names and places you recognise are J K Rowling's. Viron is mine.

**Summary: **Severus Snape recalls when he first went into the service of Voldermort. So many regrets… One-shot.

**AN:** I've always wondered what happened when Snape first got the Dark Mark. This is my interpretation of it. Hope you like it!

**The Dark Mark**

'_Where we have strong emotions, we are liable to fool ourselves.'_

_Carl Sagan_

Severus Snape liked potions. They were simple to his mind, although many would have disagreed. The slightest mistake could cause explosions. But everything was set out: predictable. If you added too many salamanders' scales, the same thing would happen one time, as the next.

Potions were nothing like life.

Reactions could not be predicted; they were sometimes irrational and always difficult to deal with. Severus Snape's way to cope with this was to have no reaction, show no emotion. Stoicism. Or alternatively always show the same emotion. Bitterness.

Severus Snape had found ways to make potions like life.

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_The moon was almost full, but the night was dark. A dark night for dark deeds._

_Severus Snape stood in the dark. He was in his final year at Hogwarts, the final step towards manhood. This night he would do that which would make him truly a man._

_He pulled on the black robes and stood silently beside his father. No words were spoken. Nothing as trivial as 'Are you ready?' Of course he was ready. He had been waiting all his teenage life for this moment. His father laid his hand harshly on Snape's shoulder and they apparated together. Severus felt the now familiar sensation of his insides being squeezed, but he didn't bend over in nausea. He was strong._

_He walked beside his father, proud to be with him. His father was powerful and soon he would be too. When he went into the service of The Dark Lord._

_The circle of Death Eaters opened to let them in, their faces obscured by the customary Death Eater masks. Severus looked up. There he was. Sitting on a chair at the end of the long hall, as though it was a throne and he was the king. Lord Voldermort._

_It was all the self-preservation that his father had taught him that stopped him from crying out at the sight of him. Those long white fingers. Those bony thin arms. Those red hooded eyes. Lord Voldermort._

"_So, Viron. You have brought your son to be marked." His voice was cruel and cold. "But, is he ready?"_

"_Yes, my Lord," Severus answered as he had been taught. "I am ready."_

_The Dark Lord's eyes bore into him and he found painful memories were appearing in his mind, memories he was not thinking of. His mother screaming as his father kicked her, the look on James Potter's face as he tormented Severus, the look on Severus' as he got his revenge… Memories he had not thought of as being important: tiny snippets of conversation he had with Lucius Malfoy, the look on his face as he thought of Lily Potter, the disgusting mudblood._

_Voldermort laughed and it was a high cruel laugh. "He is indeed ready, Viron. Come forward, Snape."_

_Severus walked, his feet moving automatically. He stood beside The Dark Lord. Voldermort raised his hands and Severus only just managed not to flinch._

"_My child, welcome to the Death Eaters."_

His long fingers touched Severus' forearm and he screamed in pain. The dark mark was now visible on his flesh. He was content.

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Severus Snape watched in disgust as his teenage self proudly admired the mark on his skin. He was reminded of something Black had said to his godson. We're all idiots at fifteen. And him the biggest idiot of them all. Suddenly he picked up the penseive and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into a thousand pieces.

He looked at the Dark Mark on his arm. It served only as a reminder of that he was most ashamed of. He took up one of the shards of the penseive and dug it angrily into his flesh, desperately trying to cut it away. He then stopped: looked at the blood running down his arm and at the glass shard embedded in his skin, and he cried.

Severus Snape stood alone on the top of the astronomy tower and wept for the man he had once been. And for the man he had become. Bitter and indifferent. Potions and life not similar enough. He couldn't do it any longer. He couldn't be their spy. He stood up straight, a decision made. He would go straight to Albus and tell him he could no longer go on like this.

He started to walk towards the staircase, but stopped. He couldn't do it. Albus needed him as a spy, and the world needed Albus.

He had to carry on for the good of the world. Just not for the good of Severus Snape.

That day, Severus Snape died. He was alive to the world but dead to himself. Life was not a potion.

Many years later, the day Voldermort fell, Severus was found, in a heap on the ground, cold, Gryffindor red staining his robes. But he was a Slytherin to the end. No one ever knew the real Severus Snape, not even himself. Life was too much for him, and yet not enough. But, though the sight of Gryffindor red covering his body was horrific, they said they saw something they had never seen before on Severus Snape's face. A smile. Now he was truly content.

**FIN**

**AN: **Well, this is my second fan fic and I hope you like it. It's not great, I know but never mind. Comments please! Thanks!

Morgan Melchor

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